Undress My Mind
by fiery-charlatan
Summary: For the Kurtbastian Halloween Week. Kurt is in for a trick and a treat this Halloween when he stumbles upon a gorgeous costume that just seems to draw him in. And what is up with that strange boy in the costume shop? Why does he star in Kurt's most recent fantasies?
1. Trick or Treat (Candies & Costumes)

Day 1: Kurt was never a fan of borrowing costumes, but this costume just draws him in.

Warning: handjob, masturbation

* * *

Kurt Hummel loves Halloween. It is his favourite holiday because it has all the sweets Valentine's has to offer and there is no greater opportunity for fashion than the night of Halloween. There's something about dressing up without bounds and he loved that he can go as anybody he wants as soon as the holiday season kicks in. He loves the freedom it brings him whenever he comes up with the costumes he would wear for the annual Trick or Treat Party that the school organizes. He's never won any of the costume categories, for some reason people can't place his costumes, but that has never stopped him from coming up and consequently, almost spending ¾ of his allowance with fabulous and party-stopping costumes. That's why it didn't come as a surprise to him that his father demanded him to put a cap on it when he started going on and on about his design that would require him access to that advertised attachment for his Sewing Genie.

"No, Kurt," Burt said with a sigh. "I won't lend you extra money so that you can buy that attachment."

"I'm only asking you for 10 bucks," Kurt said, exasperated and clearly tired of his father scrimping on him. "It's just 10 bucks, dad! I can pay you off that 10 bucks! I'm just really short now."

"No, Kurt. I honestly don't understand how you can fall short of 10 bucks," Burt replied as he sank down in his armchair. "You told me so yourself, you've been saving up for this thing for weeks, how come you're still short?"

"I didn't know they'd change their rates so fast!" Kurt argued.

"You could sue them for that you know."

"Or I could pay them the extra 10 bucks that I will borrow from you, Dad. Please, think of it as an investment. If I couldn't do this simple thing without that attachment, then how am I supposed to further improve my skills by taking on more challenging pieces without that attachment? And," Kurt paused for breath. "Before you shoo me off to the nearest tailor let me just make it clear to you that that option would be much less economical than the $10 I'm asking to borrow."

"No, Kurt. I don't need your chart. But you need to control your spending on such things, so I still won't lend you even if it is 10 bucks, especially since it's not a matter of life and death."

Kurt levels his father a glare, one which Burt doesn't hesitate to return. Seeing that his father would not cave in, he turns around and huffs. "Fine. If you won't lend me, I'm pretty sure Carole would," he says before he leaves the room, not without banging the door.

"Oh don't worry! I told them not to lend you any."

* * *

And that is how Kurt finds himself in this miserable thrift/costume shop full of second-hand and by the smell of it, authentic period costumes.

"Of all the costume shops in town, you choose the smelliest and oldest one with the most mite-infested period costumes," Kurt spits out as he looks through the racks of various ensembles for males. "I never thought I could truly hate you, Mercedes, until now."

"Oh shush," Mercedes says as she peruses her own rack of female period costumes. She brings up a pale yellow bodice and ball skirt ensemble with matching sheer sleeves. "What do you think of this?"

"It looks like someone with the plague was buried in it," Kurt says, continuing his perusal of the costumes. "Seriously, why this shop, Mercedes?"

"Well," Mercedes brings out another ensemble, this time it had a maroon, velvet, a-line skirt with a dirty white, ¾ sleeve top with a black, leather-looking corset. Kurt shrugs at her and she puts it in her must try basket. "You remember the party I told you about?"

Kurt nods in response. "The one in Westerville?"

"Yeah," Mercedes says, she's walking towards the 1800's aisle and Kurt has no choice but to follow her. "Well, Nelson, my cousin, has two tickets for me, and I was hoping you'd come with me?"

"You couldn't have asked me before you dragged me into this?" Kurt says with a fond shake of his head.

"You'd say yes anyway," Mercedes says with a shrug. "What's wrong with skipping a step?"

"True," Kurt acquiesces. "But you couldn't have chosen a better maintained costume shop? I, for a fact, know that there is a perfectly nice costume shop near Westerville."

"The theme is 1800s to 1900s, this is the only costume shop which caters specifically to that theme that is miles away from Dalton. Besides, these are authentic! You wouldn't pass that up, right?" she says with a wink, and then prances her way through the racks of authentic period wear.

Kurt only frowns at her prancing. He looks at the costumes around him in disdain, it would take a miracle for him to find a costume he likes.

* * *

It didn't take him a miracle to find the costume he trusts is safe enough to try on and he could see himself in, in fact, it only took him ten minutes and a few doors to pass. The ensemble lay behind 2 doors, and was still in a plastic laundry bag. It looks new, but the heaviness of the outfit betrays its age, it is obviously authentic and well taken care of.

"It will be absolutely perfect for you."

Kurt turns around and sees a boy of his age, tall and lanky, with light brown hair hidden beneath his maroon beanie, his face hidden behind chunky, black framed glasses, standing, leaning on the door jam.

"I'm sorry," Kurt backpedals immediately. "Is this not for rent?"

The guy shakes his head. "It is," he says. "We actually just got it back from dry-cleaning."

"Oh?" Kurt raises his eyebrow at this. "One of your top-rented pieces?" he asks as his eyes run over the great detail in the ensemble. The forest green tailcoat was finely embroidered with shimmering silver thread and the silver buttons were exceptionally shiny. The cream shirt underneath had fine threaded designs and the ruffles on it appeared to be made of silk. The accompanying waistcoat was a heather grey one that had gold threaded stripes, and the pants were of a deep and dark purple colour. It was a lovely ensemble and the colours were very striking for something so old.

"No," the stranger smiles fondly at the way Kurt was looking at the ensemble. "It's actually unpopular. Most of the guys are jarred by the colour combination."

"Oh. I think it's actually nice," Kurt says with a shrug. He turns around to face a mirror, and holds it up against him. "It's," he stops, unable to find the right words. The colour of the ensemble against his pale skin made for great contrast and he's honestly a little bit excited to try it on.

"It's made for you," the guy says and Kurt is surprised to find him just a few inches behind him. The stranger's warmth was oddly comforting and welcoming and Kurt didn't feel the need to jump away or feel violated with the little space in between them.

"You could try it on if you want," he says, his breath brushing over the hairs on Kurt's neck and Kurt stiffens, a certain warmth tickling him, traveling from his nape through his spine.

Kurt's eyes find the stranger's on the reflection; and if he was shocked to see how green it was, as if battling with the forest green of the coat in his hands, he didn't show it. "I could?" he asks breathlessly, just a bit reluctant and hoping that he won't be rejected.

"Of course," the guy smiles at him and places a gentle hand on the curve of his back and reaches out for the ensemble. Kurt could only feel giddy and lightheaded as he was lead to a small cubicle. "Here," he hands Kurt the ensemble, "Just let me know if you need any help."

Kurt just smiles at him in thanks, not fully trusting himself that he wouldn't be saying anything embarrassing, and locks the door with a soft click, the stranger's face burning in his memory.

* * *

When he slips on the velvety, purple pants, he stills. The pants are not even halfway through his thighs, but he drops his hands off them and braces himself against the wall of the cubicle. He doesn't remember closing his eyes but he is assaulted with sensations and scenes playing beneath his eyelids.

Hands were running up and down his thigh. Nails are digging into the soft flesh of his bare thigh and Kurt wonders where his pants are since they seem to have magically disappeared.

"Kurt."

It was whispered on his skin, Kurt can feel the lips forming his name on the inside his thighs. There were kisses being dropped on his lower body and Kurt feels frozen. A hand makes its way near his crotch, finally resting on his hipbone; and his breath hitches, his mind panicking. He wants to close his legs but he couldn't move his legs, he's stuck.

"Kurt, Kurt, Kurt."

Kurt's eyes are closed tight and his name is whispered and embedded on his skin by the guy's kisses. Something in him tells him that he shouldn't be letting anyone do this to him, dream sequence or not, but he can't help it. It feels so real and surreal at the same time. He pants through the guy lazily kissing and licking up his thighs and he briefly wonders how this could have happened. "Oh God," he breathes out as he feels the familiar warmth coil and start in his belly. Just as he was about to remove his hands off the wall and place it on the phantom head between his legs, he gets jerked out of the scene and his eyes immediately open.

"What the hell?"

He looks at his reflection and finds himself dressed exactly the way he was before. Feet bare, pants halfway through his thighs, and his own shirt still on._ What just happened? _He feels the floor with his bare feet, looking for a vent or some kind of trap door that could have let air pass and made him feel that – sensitive. When he finds nothing, he shifts his focus to the mirror, looking for anything; knocking on it to make sure it's on a wall and not some creepy, hollow entranceway. It doesn't sound hollow to him, so he shrugs it all off. _Maybe it's just my imagination._

He tugs the pants up and sighs in relief when the sensation of being in a play where he doesn't know his cues and his part doesn't come in. After that, he carefully strips himself of his shirt. He takes a deep breath when he picks up the cream shirt that comes with the costume. He doesn't realize that he's holding his breath until he releases it as both his right and left arms slide in through the sleeves.

"You're being silly, Kurt," he snorts as he does the buttons up. Nothing happens to him as he finishes fixing the shirt. He eyes the waistcoat with the same apprehension, not even bothering to check his reflection if he has properly tucked in his shirt or not. When he reaches for the waistcoat and he doesn't feel a tingling that might clue him into what's going to happen, he smiles and shakes his head, mentally reprimanding himself for being so, so insane.

He puts on the waistcoat, and then the tailcoat and moves to adjust a string behind it, but finds none. It doesn't really matter to him though, he thinks, as he checks the fit on him. He's impressed, it fits him perfectly and if he didn't know any better, it would seem as if it was tailored specifically for him.

He briefly remembers the stranger's words. _It's made for you._

* * *

Kurt doesn't find the stranger, strange boy outside the cubicle, nor outside the room where he found the ensemble; instead he finds him on the cashier with a slightly pissed Mercedes. Mercedes' eyes light up when they fall on him.

"I thought you've left!" Mercedes almost shrieks at him when he reaches the cashier where the strange boy is standing behind.

"I just got lost," he replies, shooting a glance on the guy who was currently ringing up Mercedes' purchases. "You find yourself a costume?"

"Of course," Mercedes huffs. "He's ringing it up. You?"

"Yeah, I did," he brings up the ensemble that is neatly tucked into the laundry bag.

"Where did you find it?" Mercedes asks. "You know I was talking about what styles and what era I should take, and then I turn around and find that you were gone! Thank god this guy was able to help me."

Kurt looks at the stranger who is oddly quiet and smiles at him when their eyes meet. "I don't know, I just found it," he answers with a shrug and he looks back at Mercedes as he puts the laundry bag on the counter.

"Or maybe," the guy starts, placing his hand directly on top of Kurt's hand. Kurt wants to shake it off but he is caught at the familiar feeling of those hands. "It found you, Kurt."

Mercedes laughs, and Kurt chuckles, slowly inching his hands away from its entrapment beneath the stranger's hand. "Maybe it did."

* * *

Kurt doesn't remember the incident until the night of the Trick or Treat party at Dalton, three days after their shopping trip. Oddly enough, the presence of the costume, newly dry-cleaned (again, because he's pretty sure he won't be at ease unless he knows it's been dry-cleaned in the span of a week), and neatly hanging inside his closet, doesn't trigger any of the weird happenings in the costume store. It's when he was finishing arranging the coat and fixing his collar that the memories come rushing back.

They weren't the same scenes.

* * *

"Sebastian."

Someone whispers.

"Sebastian."

It comes out as a moan and Kurt is surprised to hear it come out of him.

"Sebastian," Kurt breathes out, completely lost in the vision. The lips that were previously so well acquainted with his inner thighs are now on his neck. Nipping. Licking. Sucking at random spots. "Fuck."

The guy, Sebastian, Kurt assumes, abandons his neck and then buries his nose in Kurt's hair and tightens his arms around Kurt's waist. His hands roam freely over Kurt's layer of clothes, touch light and teasing. Sebastian's hands make their way to the bottom of Kurt's waistcoat, looking for that fold of clothe that is part of his shirt. When he finds it, he successfully tugs it out of Kurt's pants with an a-ha and Kurt has to bite his lip to keep himself from begging. With his shirt fully untucked from his pants, Sebastian puts his hands underneath his shirt, one hand going up, nails scratching on Kurt's muscles; the other hand is going down, playfully scratching the v that leads to his slowly hardening member. When his hand slip into the garter of the pants and bumped the hot flesh of his member, Kurt keens.

"Please, more," he pleads, stretching his neck further, letting his head nestle in the crook of Sebastian's neck. "More Sebastian," he gasps brokenly as Sebastian toys with the coarse hair around his member.

"You're begging now?" Sebastian whispers into his ear. Kurt whimpers and lets himself collapse on Sebastian's body behind him. Kurt can feel Sebastian grinning against his ear and he can't help but gasp when Sebastian bites his earlobe. Kurt trembles, a moan emitted deep from his tummy as if the mere actions Sebastian does pushes and manipulates the movements of his internal organs.

"Please," Kurt pants as he buries himself deeper into Sebastian's arms and he idly wonders how Sebastian is still standing up when he couldn't even find it in himself to support his weight since his knees are so eager to give out.

"The perfect, master Hummel, begging so wantonly," Sebastian says in between kisses. Kurt bites his lips again when Sebastian's uncut fingernails trace along his member. "What would your father say?" he pants against Kurt's neck as he continues running down his fingers on opposite directions along Kurt's body. "When he sees you submit to the tailor's son?"

"Sebastian."

Sebastian smirks against his neck. His fingers have stopped teasing Kurt, instead he was now palming over Kurt's hardened member, loving every twitch it makes and the corresponding breathy, little gasps Kurt does when he varies the pressure. "You love this don't you? Completely at my mercy, I bet your stuck up attitude can't take it, right? You just can't take how good, how filthy I can make you feel, right, Master?"

Kurt bites his lip again, and the thought that his lips might fall off him comes to him as quickly as it goes. He is at a loss for words. He would like to scream, shout at Sebastian and tell him how he really feels but he can't find the thoughts in his brain. It's like his brain was only capable of recognizing Sebastian and Sebastian alone. When Sebastian forms a circle with his fist and starts jerking him off, Kurt stutters a fuck.

"It's Hallow's Eve, master," Sebastian talks as he squeezes and drags his fist along Kurt's erection. "Everyone's out for the mass but us, master." Kurt hums in agreement. "You can be as loud as you want, master," Sebastian drawls as he digs his thumb through the slit.

"As loud as you want."

* * *

Kurt screams, his hand moving over his erection faster as he chases the remnants of the vision. He pulls at his member hard as the image of Sebastian comes rushing back to the forefront of his brain. Light brown hair falling just beneath his green eyes, a face so unfamiliar with smiling and yet it oddly suits him. A body so tall and lanky, yet he's pretty sure that he wouldn't be surprised to find a delicious set of abs and muscles on him. He quickens his pace, the phantom kisses and licks on his neck urging him to completion.

He comes with a whimper.

* * *

It must have been a dream, Kurt thinks as he straightens his costume again. But it obviously wasn't, he thinks derisively. _ Not when I have my hands down my pants and my pants shoved to my ankles._

He pretends that he didn't just jerk off to the spitting image of the strange boy in the costume shop.

* * *

When they make it to the Dalton Trick or Treat Party, Kurt honestly just doesn't know what to expect. He's never one to expect from new things since he doesn't feel that he has a right to even assume, so basically, everything comes as a surprise to him. From the way the hall was tastelessly decorated with cobwebs and plastic spiders and crafted pumpkins (seriously, this was a boarding school with tuition of epic proportions) to the cute themed cupcakes that seems to be on every table, every little thing was just a surprise to him. It was so different to the annual Halloween party held in McKinley, and he's still on the fence on whether that was a good or a bad thing.

He loses sight of Mercedes and Nelson as soon as they find a table in the corner though. He sighs, he's ready to resign himself in a night without Mercedes and surrounded by people he barely even knew, yelling trick or treat. In a way, McKinley's was better, at least he knew some people there. His eyes fall on the serving of caramelized fruits in the middle of the table and he wonders how long they've been exposed and if it was still healthy for consumption. He doesn't, however, bother to find out and instead chooses to nibble on the candies that surround the caramelized fruits.

He's on his third (vodka-filled?) gummy bear, and nth candy when a masked guy, dressed in an ensemble that reminds him the time period of his own costume, approaches him. The boy had light brown hair, styled like one of those that can be seen on Gossip Girl, and he had a slight smirk on his lips. He places his jack-o-lantern (registration-issued collection baskets for candy; Kurt has his own, but Nelson and Mercedes commandeered it, claiming that they are the best trick-or-treaters in the room), and Kurt has to raise an eyebrow at this.

"Trick or treat?" the guy asks, and Kurt, for the life of him, finds the voice familiar but he just can't place it. Was it the mall? Was it the costume shop? Was it the not-so-dream? _He sure looks like the strange boy in the shop._ Kurt is brought out of his reminiscing when the boy taps his empty jack-o-lantern on the table. "Trick or treat?"

"Treat," Kurt says with a smile as he places handful of candies from the table top in the guy's jack-o-lantern. He was about to pull his hand away when the guy suddenly stops him with his own, holding Kurt's wrist.

Kurt tugs a bit, but the guy doesn't let go. "This isn't funny," he says when his head begins to cloud, and he can feel the tell-tale signs of memory assault happening.

The guy smiles at him in response but lets go of Kurt's hand. "Happy Hallow's Eve, Master Hummel."

Kurt is shocked, and maybe a little creeped out when he watches the guy turn away from him and walk towards the middle of the hall, only to disappear right before his eyes.

* * *

End of Part 1.

Author's Note: This is part 1, of hopefully 3 or 4 oneshots that is inspired by the Kurtbastian Halloween Week theme. The parts will be coming from the 4 daily themes: trick or treat (candy & costumes), nightmares, lost, and au. And this is my first time writing ermsmut.


	2. Nightmares

Submission Day: 2 Nightmares

Summary: Sometimes, nightmares are not dreams. They're things we see happening in front of us and the reason why they're so terrifying is because we can't stop them. And they go on, on, and on. Kurt and Sebastian have nightmares of different kinds.

Warning: violence and torture and harsh language (name calling-shaming).

* * *

It must have been a dream, Kurt thinks as he straightens his costume again. But it obviously wasn't, he thinks derisively._ Not when I have my hands down my pants and my pants shoved to my ankles_, he snorts_._

That and I really cannot remember my dreams, he thinks, frowning at his dishevelled reflection.

_It's a good thing that I didn't stain these, _he eyes the velvety pants pooled around his ankles, pulling it up with a grimace as it clings to his legs. He then fixes his hair, wondering when it got messed up when he doesn't even remember running his hands through it.

But then, Kurt thinks as he pulls on his collar, what if this time, he can remember his dreams?

He shakes his head. _It can't be a dream, it doesn't feel like one._

* * *

Kurt Hummel never remembers his dreams. When he was a kid and his classmates seemed to enjoy exchanging stories of what chased them and where they fell in their dreams, he finds himself unable to share his own dream sequences. For the seventeen years Kurt has lived, he has never remembered any single dream. It worried him, and even in his early years he was scared that something might be wrong with him solely because of the fact that he can't remember what he dreams of when he's asleep. He remembers his father telling him that it's all right, and that shouldn't be a problem, after all, if he couldn't remember his dreams, then he surely can't remember his nightmares.

* * *

Kurt is shocked, and maybe a little creeped out when he watches the guy turn away from him and walk towards the middle of the hall, only to disappear right before his eyes.

_Who wouldn't? He just, like, vanished into thin air._ He can feel the blood drain off his face, _this is way spooky for me, _and then he shakes his head and laughs a little. First the flashbacks, vision things, and now a disappearing man? Maybe, he thought, maybe this was loving Halloween a little too far.

He eyes the nearly empty plate of candies and feels himself grow annoyed. Why did he have to give most of his night's sustenance to a guy with a penchant for disappearing? He sulks, because so far, his night hasn't been going so well. Mercedes and Nelson also seem to have disappeared, and again, he feels annoyed because why couldn't he have had the foresight to bring his own car instead of going with them? Now he's stuck in a party in the middle of Westerville, and he really isn't fond of any type of public transportation so commuting would be out of the question.

He sighs and lets his chin rest on his hand. It's only 8 and though the party is getting to its full swing; nobody seems to be approaching for trick or treating because he obviously doesn't have any treats to give away.

_This is turning out to be one of those nights._

* * *

Once he's finished all the sweets on his table and lamented the inevitable sugar bloat he will get with the confectionary demolition, he finds himself wandering around the school.

Dalton is very large, and it appears that only the room where the party was held was decorated. _As it should_, he thinks as he takes in the historical murals that line the walls. He cringes at the thought that the boys who planned this party would ever think of maligning these tastefully decorated halls with their cheap Halloween trinkets. If ever that happened, Dalton's value would go down, he thought. In fact, if he was to judge Dalton based solely on the things he's seen in that party, he would think that it isn't any better than McKinley, thankfully for him (and for Dalton too, because what he saw in the party doesn't impress), he was drawn to explore the place. It was an itching, like something telling Kurt that he would really regret it if he didn't do something.

* * *

He stands in front of a huge painting, framed simply and rather tastefully. It was a painting of a young boy, sewing, hunched on a table covered with different lengths of fabrics and littered with brightly colored spools of thread; and a man that seems to be overseeing the boy's work. The piece was surprisingly very detailed; there wasn't any repeating motif or design on the different cloths strewn about in the painting, and even the wooden panel in the background seemed real. In fact, Kurt thinks, if he didn't know any better, he would've thought that this was a scene caught by an HD camera and printed on canvas. But it couldn't have been done that way, he thinks as he runs his fingers experimentally on the painting and relishes in the feel of brush strokes against his fingertips.

"The Tailors Smith."

Kurt's fingers fly of the painting as if something sharp has struck him. He turns to look at the boy who had just spoken. At this point in time, he isn't surprised to see that it was the same guy who had spooked him earlier, only now he was unmasked and Kurt can see his face clearly. A name flashes into his mind, Sebastian, but he ignores it.

"Huh," Kurt mumbles, he briefly lets his eyes travel on the stranger's face before returning to the painting.

"This painting is called 'The Tailors Smith'," the guy explains and Kurt can sense him turning to face him.

Kurt indulges him and turns around to face him too, not really knowing why he's even acknowledging this guy. But he doesn't, can't, complain when he does so because the guy before him was practically flawless. Now that he was up closer for inspection, Kurt can see the tiny, little freckles that dot his nose and cheeks; they were so fine, that one would have to get close to him in order to see. His eyes, which reminds Kurt of the strange guy in the store, were so green and if Kurt could name a place for the color, he'd immediately think of a forest. His nose, while not that long and slim was prominent and suiting. And his lips, while chapped at some places and well-bitten in others, was pink and plump in a dry sort of way. All in all, his face was what you would call striking, but it wasn't one that would make you think that this guy was very handsome, but it would be a lie not to call it gorgeous, because that's what it was, strikingly gorgeous. And Kurt, for the love of him, wanted to touch it, and run his fingers over every feature and he can feel his arm coming up to do so but he bites the inner of his cheek to somehow tamp that unnatural feeling of wanting.

"-in the family for years, but we donated it," the guy smiles, breaking eye contact as he looks at the painting.

"What?" Kurt stutters out, a bit surprised at the sudden break in their connection. He looks back at the painting, warmth spreading in his cheeks, embarrassed at being caught unaware because he was ogling.

"It's been in our family for years," the guy says fondly. "But we donated it to Dalton, someone else has to appreciate this kind of art, you know," he says as he turns to look at Kurt.

"Uhm, yeah, it's beautiful," Kurt nods in agreement, and from the corner of his eye he can see the stranger smile so much wider, and that makes Kurt smile a little too.

They stood there, silently taking in the painting and keeping to themselves; Kurt mulling things over and mentally segregating the questions that are bursting on his mind. "Are you a student here, then?" Kurt asks, unable to keep himself that quiet for a long time.

"Yes."

"You seem familiar," Kurt starts again.

"Our family owns the costume shop where you bought that from," he answers, with a gesture towards Kurt's costume.

"Oh," Kurt says and he can feel his body heating up for some weird reason. "Is that how you know me then?"

"Yep," the guy answers, popping the p. "It's written in the receipts."

"I see," Kurt hums. "In the party, you called me Master Hummel, why is that?"

The guy snorts, and then sweeps his hand over his costume in a look-at-me-and-look-at-you way, and Kurt only notices now. It's simpler than his, because the guy is wearing brown pants that appear to be muddied, and his waistcoat was a dark grey one with a less-refined texture, and the shirt beneath that, although the same cut as Kurt's, was made of a heavier, rougher fabric, and didn't have the silk ruffles.

"I take my role as a tailor's boy seriously," the guy says, and Kurt has to laugh, because this is the nth reference to sewing in the span of 24 hours. The guy only smiles at his mirth, letting out a chuckle when Kurt snorted.

"What's your name?"

"Sebastian Smythe."

"Like the one with the tailor Smith?"

He nods. "It was changed years before I was born to Smythe with a y and an e."

* * *

Kurt stills, one second he was laughing at Sebastian's make-up "background stories" to the paintings they passed, Sebastian offering to be his Dalton tour guide as they share the candy Kurt gave him earlier that evening; the next thing he knew he's lying on an unfamiliar but really soft bed.

He's dreaming, it's the only explanation he can think of. How else would he get this out-of-body experience while actually being in his body? He's asleep, or the body he's in is asleep while his mind, or he, himself, is very, very awake. He's sleeping, but he knows and feels that he isn't in his room, at least, the room that's in Lima, Ohio but weirdly enough, he recognizes this, in some part of his mind, as his own room; he's not just sure how he knows it.

There is an arm weighing him down, and he's pretty sure that if his father finds him in this kind of position, he wouldn't see the light of the day. His body turns around anyway and hugs the arm as he buries his nose into the crook of the guy's neck, inhaling the guy's musk. He, as in the mental he, he corrects himself, cannot place the smell, it was a mix of the guy's sweat (he winces), and some kind of strong detergent, but his body (his other brain) doesn't seem to mind and snuggles even further, bare chest against bare chest, and he briefly wonders how naked he is under the sheets.

"Can't sleep?" the guy who's weighing him down asks. The guy shifts in the bed and if Kurt was wondering about the state of undress or dress that he's in before, then he's now pretty sure that he's 100% naked. If he moves just a bit closer, he'll be feeling the guy's leg hairs prickling his own, and _is that his-his dangly bits against his hip?_

Kurt opens his eyes, and he is shocked to see a shirtless Sebastian next to him. He finds Sebastian, hair unstyled, flopping on his forehead, staring at the ceiling of the room. This Sebastian though, was unlike his Sebastian. This Sebastian seems friendlier than the Sebastian he knows; and there's a gentleness in this guy that he can't find in the non-dream version.

Kurt feels his body shaking his head in response, and then choosing to bury himself into Sebastian's chest. He almost forgot that this Sebastian has asked a question.

"I can't sleep either," Sebastian says softly, he turns a bit on his side so that he can spoon Kurt (Kurt, the mental version and the physical one, both of them, feel something swoop in his chest cavity with the action). "Actually, I don't want to sleep."

"Why?" his body closes his eyes as he inhales Sebastian's scent again (and Kurt doesn't really find Sebastian's musk that off-putting anymore; if he grimaces, it's because his throat is so dry that speaking is a bit unpleasant and his voice is so gravelly). "You need to sleep. Aren't you tired?"

"I am. I'm tired. Of all this," Sebastian replies, and this time he's hugging Kurt tighter and every word is spoken to Kurt's neck.

"Sebastian," Kurt hears himself say, voice sad and resigned and suddenly he (the non-dream version) feels completely awake, Kurt briefly wonders why this is so.

"Why do we have to hide this?" Sebastian asks brokenly.

Kurt mentally "Oh"s as he feels his chest constrict. "Someday, in another life," Kurt finds himself saying, and he wonders if this is him (real him) and not the dream him speaking. "We won't have to hide." He turns around to face Sebastian who is valiantly trying to hold his tears that Kurt (he's blurring the lines between himself and the dream version) has to brush his thumb over Sebastian's face to help him control the muscles that seem to be spasming, wanting to submit to tears. "Someday, people won't look down on us, on what we have, because they can't touch us."

Sebastian sighs, and Kurt moves to take him in further into his arms. They're now hugging tightly, Sebastian's fingers digging at the skin on his back, desperately looking for something to hold on to, as if , if he can't dig his fingers into Kurt then Kurt will be taken away from him. "I need that someday now, Kurt. Because, the someday that we have to stop this, will be sooner than the someday where we won't be judge for having each other. "

Kurt swallows. He doesn't bother telling Sebastian things that may or may not come true, because that is not what Sebastian needs, so he just runs his hands over Sebastian's naked back, pressing lightly on his lower back, and Sebastian shifts to move closer, their hips against each other, legs intertwined, and chests heaving together and he whispers it against Sebastian's lips. "I love you. Everyday, that someday be damned. I love you, and I'll always have you."

* * *

When Kurt returns to Dalton, he finds himself lying on one of the couches with Sebastian hovering over him. He pulls himself up and supports himself on his elbows. He looks up and he's faced with Sebastian's concerned face.

"What happened?" he moves himself up the couch to sit up, back against the armrest.

"You just zoned out," Sebastian says, hurrying to sit by Kurt's legs as he reaches out for his hands, helping him steady himself. "You weren't moving, and for a second I thought I actually bored you to death, but then you just dropped, fell to your knees actually."

Kurt looks at his knees and wonders why he doesn't feel any pain.

"I caught you," Sebastian answers. "Before you hit the floor. That's why your knees don't hurt like hell now."

"Okay," Kurt breathes out, still a bit confused and disconcerted. "Okay."

"Are you fine?" Kurt shoots Sebastian a look, and Sebastian retracts. "I mean, you're not secretly sick are you?" Kurt shakes his head and Sebastian breathes a sigh of relief. "You scared me."

"I dreamt," Kurt says, and Sebastian looks at him confusedly, moving in closer.

"Of what?" Sebastian asks as Kurt brings his legs up to accommodate Sebastian on the couch. Sebastian only moves closer, and Kurt should be offended by this blatant invasion of personal space, but it doesn't matter anymore, nothing matters because he can't make tails and heads of things.

"You," he whispers, hoping that Sebastian would not be able to hear it because admitting to someone you just met that you just dreamt of them is rather embarrassing.

"Wow," Sebastian says as he lets out a slow whistle. "You dreamt of me. That was quick."

Kurt should have been offended at the implication, but he just finds himself smiling, appreciating Sebastian for making light of what just happened, and besides something in his mind tells him that Sebastian is and always will be like this during times of stress; so he lets it go. "I don't remember my dreams."

"That's cool," Sebastian says, shrugging. "If you don't want to tell me, it's ok. It's not like I'll press you for details or anything."

Kurt shakes his head gently. "I never remember my dreams," he pushes, when Sebastian doesn't react, he continues. "But this time, I remembered it. And you know, it's the first time I did."

"Ever?"

"Yes."

"That must be because I'm here with you now? Maybe my presence triggered your memory."

"Maybe," Kurt says, not really buying that, because it can't be only that. He feels that there's something deeper behind this. Sebastian doesn't speak for a while and Kurt takes it as his time to look at Sebastian. Sebastian was staring into the painting on the opposite wall, head resting on his hands that were raised to fold above him and meet at his nape, and at that moment Kurt thinks he looks exactly like his dream version. Just modernized, but the gentleness in dream!Sebastian that he can't find in this Sebastian seem to ooze from the very pores of this guy. This Sebastian seems as friendly as the dream one, approachable and the creepy quality that was bucketloads before became non-existent.

"Were you in the dream?" Sebastian asks, taking Kurt away from his scrutiny.

"Yes. I dreamt of you, and me," Kurt says before he can stop himself, a blush coloring his cheeks as soon as the words came out. "I'm sorry, you must think it's presumptuous of me."

"I don't mind," Sebastian says. "Was it a good dream?"

If Kurt's cheeks were pink earlier, then he's pretty sure he's red now. He bites his lips, willing his blush to go away, and desperately trying to think of an answer that won't put him into an embarrassing position.

"You didn't die in it," Kurt finally replies with a shrug, thinking it's a good enough answer without giving Sebastian any idea of what he really dreamt of.

"I never really die," Sebastian says, and if Kurt was disappointed to see that Sebastian wasn't the slightest bit amused with his answer, he doesn't show it. Instead, he focuses on Sebastian's answer.

"That's odd," Kurt comments, Sebastian only shrugs. "You never really die in your dreams, right?"

"Not even in my nightmares."

* * *

When Kurt is confident that he won't be finding the world spinning around him, he forces Sebastian to show him the courtyard that Dalton is reportedly famous for (aside from the steep tuition and high quality education, and also because it's such a common location for filming when in Ohio). Sebastian refused, at first, saying that Kurt really should be resting given the night's events, but eventually gives in when Kurt pushes him off the couch and into the direction of the nearest exit, saying that it will be on his conscience when Kurt dies without seeing that garden.

"I really don't see the appeal," Sebastian grumbles as he walks with Kurt in the colder-than-normal evening. Kurt may not feel the cold, but Sebastian can actually feel every drop in temperature because unlike Kurt, he's not wearing three (or more) layers of clothing.

"Of course you don't!" Kurt says. "You're here everyday! It grows on you, but I've never seen it, so I have to see if it's true," he continues, not bothering if he's coming off as demanding. There really is something with Sebastian that makes Kurt comfortable and do things like hold his hand while walking, or tug on his sleeves to make him catch up. It's like something Kurt has done before. That or the dream has been influencing him, either way, Sebastian doesn't seem to mind so Kurt doesn't either. He tugs once more on his hand when he feels Sebastian lagging behind him. Sebastian only groans and facepalms, but quickens his pace anyway.

Kurt feels like the air was punched out of him when they reach the famed courtyard.

The courtyard was surrounded with bushes and shrubs on its edges, separating it from the concrete pathway that surround it. The bushes and shrubs were dusted with fairy lights, illuminating parts of the courtyard where the light from the building standing behind it doesn't reach. A large 2-tier fountain stands in the middle of the courtyard and spotlights seem to illuminate the surface of the water. The building that can be visible from the courtyard (the main building as Sebastian points out), is about a meter away from the concrete pathway, and while the upper stories were dark and only had a handful of lights on, it gives the courtyard a soft glow with the help of the yellow spot lights placed strategically near the arches of the building's open-air ground floor.

"Pictures don't do this place justice," Kurt says in amazement, as he moves toward the fountain. Sebastian only shrugs at him. Kurt sits on the edge, facing the fountain, with his legs pulled up. Sebastian follows him, sitting beside him in a similar position, only difference is he's facing Kurt. Kurt can feel himself redden under Sebastian's scrutiny and proceeds to rest his chin on his knees. Sebastian chuckles and Kurt looks at him in askance. "What?"

"You've always loved fountains."

* * *

There's a slight shift in the atmosphere. The air seems thicker and it awfully smells like dahlia. Sebastian's hair is out of its gelled confinement and is brushing over his eyebrows; and his face is roughened, and there's a red mark on his cheek.

Kurt can tell that he's in one of those visions again, but this time, it doesn't feel like he's in a not-so-out-of-body experience. For once, he's the only one he can hear in his brain, and there's no sense of things being purely done out of command. It's like everything that he will do will probably come from him, and it doesn't feel like he's in a play or a puppet strung to act. But he can tell, he can tell that this isn't Dalton anymore and it's not Halloween 2012.

He puts his thumb into his mouth and he wets it. Then he reaches out to brush off the red mark on Sebastian's cheek. Sebastian's eyes widen, surprised at the touch. "What's that?"

"Red dye," Sebastian answers, cheeks flushing as he removes Kurt's thumb off his cheek and hastens to replace it with his own. Kurt only smiles at him as he rubs furiously at the mark. "Is it gone?"

Kurt smiles at him cheekily. "Yes."

"Father's been experimenting again," Sebastian says with a shrug as he takes Kurt's hand and holds it, palm facing upwards. He traces the lines on Kurt's palm with a reddened finger and Kurt could only look on at it in interest. "We've been pressing berries all day and mixing them with different oils and grease, seeing which combination would last longer on different fibers. So far, we've found out that bear grease, and berry and a bit of cinnabar would do the trick for most of the fabrics we use. Father thinks the berries make the color stronger and look more natural but I think it's cinnabar doing all the work."

Kurt inches closer to him and takes a whiff. "So that's why you don't stink that much," he says with a chuckle as Sebastian frowns at him. "You actually reek of berries, they hide the stench of detergent and the nauseating smell of grease."

Sebastian narrows his eyes at him and drops Kurt's hand as he slides away, further from Kurt. "If you're going to insult me then I'll just go," he says as he heaves himself up and turns around so that he could leave the fountain.

Kurt tugs at his arm and laughs. "Oh come on, Bastian! I was just kiddng!" Sebastian doesn't move but he doesn't face Kurt. Kurt sits closer to him and proceeds to wrap his arms around Sebastian's waist. He playfully digs his nose into Sebastian's neck and breathes deeply. "You smell fantastic."

Sebastian stiffens in his hold. "But you still don't like it."

"I'm used to it," Kurt hums in reply. "And even if you do smell that way, it's a part of you, and you know I love every inch of you. So I love it, even if it does smell unpleasant. I still think there's no one who can smell better than you do."

"You do," Sebastian says as he finally relaxes in Kurt's arms. "You always do. You smell of lilac, and chamomile. Sometimes you smell of strawberries and vanilla. But you always smell nice. And here I am, reeking of sweat, some animal grease, and if you're lucky, mud and stone."

"Still nothing better," Kurt replies as he nuzzles his nose into Sebastian's hair. "I wouldn't have it any other way."

"I just –sometimes I wish that I didn't have to be so poor, so dirty, because I feel like I'm soiling you, defiling something so clean."

Kurt bursts into laughter. "But you do," he says as he puts a hand on Sebastian's face and pulls it so that Sebastian would turn to look at him. "You do defile me, and you do a fine job of defiling me. I like it," he continues with a smile and Sebastian finally quirks his lips up.

* * *

And then suddenly, the air is thinner, like a fog receded and the mist finally cleared. It stops smelling like dahlias and the rustle of leaves and sounds of crickets were replaced by a faint thumping of the bass and the occasional honks from cars. And the telling sign, Sebastian's hair is gelled up, and his face is clean. Kurt is not in his vision anymore.

Kurt holds Sebastian's face near his own, straddling the fountain ledge as Sebastian rearranges his legs to reflect his position. He's rubbing his thumb over Sebastian's left cheek and he feels so drunk off the vision that he doesn't mind Sebastian going closer, almost breathing into him. His eyes are fixed on Sebastian's green gaze and he wonders what thoughts must be flitting back and forth behind those eyes. When Sebastian's hands land on his and Sebastian's eye closes at the sensation of Kurt rubbing all over him, Kurt finally drops his gaze to Sebastian's lips and moves in closer. Their knees are bumping and their thighs are touching. Sebastian leans forward, inches closer to Kurt's lips and Kurt feels like his heart is trying to get out of his ribs.

"Sebastian," Kurt breathes out, wetting his lower lip before biting on it, suddenly feeling nervous. He feels a hand come up behind him and rest on his lower back for support.

"I've waited," Sebastian says. "So long," his eyes focus on Kurt's wet lips. "So long," he repeats before he closes the distance between them and Kurt only hums in response as he starts kissing back.

* * *

They finally part, chests heaving and lips wet and swollen. Sebastian has his eyes closed, while Kurt has his eyes wide open. Kurt brings a hand to touch his lips and he's surprised to feel them so wet, and so tender. His eyes travel downward and he's shocked to see that not only are they closer together but he's also straddling Sebastian. His other hand was resting on Sebastian's thigh beneath him, warm and strong under him, supporting him. He squeezes and Sebastian's eyes open.

Kurt flies off Sebastian's lap the second Sebastian's eyes open. "I'm sorry," he stutters out, a hand running through his hair as he rearranges himself and puts a good distance between the two of them; he looks at everywhere but Sebastian. "I don't know what came over me."

"You're sorry?" Sebastian asks, incredulity in his voice, and Kurt looks at him. Sebastian looked blissful with his eyes close, but now that his eyes are open, he looks angry and frustrated and Kurt cannot understand why (or maybe he can).

"I'm sorry," Kurt's gaze leaves Sebastian's face. "For coming onto you and for kissing you, and for this."

"You shouldn't be sorry," Sebastian says, tone now softer. "It's fine, better than fine." He moves to take Kurt's hand again, but Kurt moves away, back straight and Sebastian knows that this isn't the time to push.

"I'm sorry," Kurt repeats as he turns around, stands up and leaves.

Sebastian doesn't follow.

* * *

Nelson and Mercedes find him wandering the halls. They beam at him, three jack-o-lanterns filled to the brim with candies. He smiles tightly at them.

"What's wrong?" Mercedes asks as she pushes her jack-o-lantern to Nelson forcefully.

Kurt only shakes his head. "Nothing," he whispers. "Nothing's wrong."

"You seem shaken," Nelson comments from his spot. "Are you sure you're alright?"

Kurt looks at him and the concern he sees on the guy's face is more than surprising. He briefly considers telling them that he fainted back then, but he knows that doing so would only lead Mercedes into mothering him, and a mothering Mercedes isn't really what they need to enjoy this night.

"Of course," Kurt says with a smile. "I just got tired, I wandered around, and well, walking can be so tiring," he assures them.

"Okay," Mercedes says, but she doesn't look convinced. "Well, if you're tired, then we could go."

"Yeah," Nelson says. "I think me and Cedes here did a fine job of getting all the worthy candies! So I'll say that our work here is done!"

Kurt smiles at them, glad that they enjoyed their evening, but there was a part of him that is feeling bitter because they did leave him alone. "As long as you got mine filled too."

"Of course!" Mercedes says as she pulls Kurt to a one-armed embrace and starts walking them together. "I even traded you my gummy candies for the Reese's! Hope you didn't mind!"

"Of course not," Kurt says, and this time he says it with a genuine smile. "You know I'd do anything for gummy candies!"

Nelson, who was walking with his Dalton friends, approaches them when he hears of the gummy trade and slings his arm over Mercedes' other shoulder. "Hey Kurt, you don't mind me trading my gummy candies for your Butterfingers would you?"

"Not on your life!" Kurt says with his tongue stuck out at Nelson.

"Oh come on! I helped in getting candies!" Nelson says, pouting. Kurt and Mercedes could only laugh at him.

"Fine!" Kurt finally says after he's calmed down. "I'll trade your gummy candies!"

* * *

When Kurt gets home and finds Finn organizing his candies by preference, he joins him and they argue on which candy should have the honor of getting the title "Awesomest Candy Ever" (it was Finn who named it, Kurt prefers to call it "The Ace"). Kurt ends up learning that their differences don't really end with clothes and preference in hobbies, because Finn argues that pop rocks explode ergo (Finn actually used the word ergo) the best, while Kurt scoffs and says that KitKat and Sour Patch Kids are the aces. In the end, Kurt gives Finn the pop rocks and all the other hard candies and a few of his chocolate bars (except KitKat, Finn can have the Twix instead) while Finn gives him the dots and the sour patch kids. Kurt counts his candies and finds out that if he saves them, he'll have enough to last all his study breaks up to next week.

_Nice._ It saves him money and trips to the grocery store, he thinks as he organizes his candy by kind in his mini-fridge in his room. For all the suckiness that this night brought, including that weird kiss and all the ass-hat weird visions, it turned out to be a good night, at least in terms of candy output.

* * *

_I am definitely dreaming, _Kurt thinks as he turns around in his spot. He is wearing thinner and lesser clothes, implying that he must be inside his house (his being his physical body's). He is in an untucked cotton shirt, still embroidered and ruffled, but he feels like this is something that is meant to be worn inside the house. If that didn't spell out house, then his pants probably would because they are of a boring color (brown, not the most interesting one since it isn't even printed), and they're loose plus the boots he's wearing are a bit bigger and more broken in, allowing his toes to breath even through his thick socks.

"Where are you taking me?!" his voice comes out as frantic and defiant, and it's only now that Kurt notices that there are two hands tugging him. "Quit manhandling me!" The hands tighten on him in response. He wrestles in them and tries to tug his hands out forcefully. "My father will hear of this and you two will be fired!"

A dark chuckle. "Your father told us to bring you here," the one on Kurt's right says.

Kurt pauses for a second, wondering why these two goons are the ones who's bringing them to his father when he has his regular bodyguards to accompany him. _Someone must have broken in_, it's the first thought that other Kurt (dream!Kurt) thought and Kurt (the sleeping, dreaming one) feels a bit frightened and confused.

"Let go of me!" he says as he fights to free his arms. The two finally let go of him and he breathes a sigh of relief. He pauses in walking and the other two pause as well. "Lead the way. If you tell me where I'm supposed to be going, I'll go, but don't, and I emphasize this, _do not touch me._ I don't appreciate being touched."

The one on the left laughs, he's big and burly and he must be the same age as Kurt. Kurt immediately shoots him a dirty look, and carefully observes all the details on this guy so that he will be able to tell on them to his father. He was about to tell them how they'd like it if his father ever found out that they were disrespecting him when the guy opens his mouth. "You don't appreciate being touched? That's not what people are saying when you're being touched by tailor Smith's son!"

And Kurt's body freezes. _We've been so careful. So careful._

"Can't speak now?" the first one asks as he comes closer to Kurt and tries to invade his space. Kurt takes a step backward, for the first time, both his identities, physical and mental, feels one thing. Fear.

"Guess it's true then," the second one says.

"But, I don't think he's only being touched," the first one says as if Kurt wasn't there with them.

"Really now?" the second one says and they start walking towards somewhere, with Kurt standing frozen behind them. And they start to twitter about like they were old, gossiping ladies Kurt could only listen to them with half an ear because his mind is full of Sebastian and the Smiths and _we've been very careful._

The two must have noticed that he wasn't following them because they come back, and they looked confused.

"Do we have to drag you?" the first one asks menacingly, and Kurt gets broken out of thought, because this is the first time he wanted to strangle someone with his bare hands.

Kurt frowns at the guy and lifts his chin up defiantly. He looks at the two with such disdain in his eyes that the two had no choice but to back off. "Where are you taking me to?" he asks them, sneering slightly, with a voice stronger than how he actually feels.

"To the dungeons," the second one answers, this time a little bit more humbled.

"I know where the dungeons are," he says coldly. The two stare at him, confused and lost. "Why are you still standing? Are you waiting for your hanging?" he spits at them.

"Your father told us to bring you there."

"I'm not a prisoner," he snarls at the first guard who answered. "I don't need people bringing me. I can go there on my own." The two do not move to go away but they look at each other, not knowing what they should do, so Kurt shooes them away. "Now scat!"

"But your father," the first one tries to argue.

"My father will learn of your disrespect and disobedience if you don't leave my side now!"

They seem to be properly chastised and scared so they bow and turn around to leave. Kurt revels in the fact that he can still scare people, but that is short lived, because he couldn't hide the discomfort and fear he feels.

* * *

Kurt doesn't know what to expect when he reaches the dungeon. Kurt has never been here before, but a part of him remembers the path to it, and that same part also remembers his father telling him that he should never come here. How he knows how to go to the dungeon and why he wasn't allowed in it, doesn't come to him.

He is faced with a heavy door and something in him tells him that this is the dungeon he's looking for. He takes a deep breath and closes his eyes, hoping that whatever it is that his father called him for wouldn't be about Sebastian or the Smiths. He puts a hand to the door and takes another deep breath, summoning every strength he has so that he could push the door and face whatever it is that's hiding behind it.

He doesn't have to push that hard, because the door opens on its own and behind it stands his father.

His father, Kurt thinks, is still Burt. He sighs in relief, if it was Burt, then he shouldn't be scared, his father is the most understanding man in the world, right next to Sebastian. He smiles at him before bowing. "Father, what is-?" he stops when he sees no amusement in his father's face.

His father frowns at him and doesn't even acknowledge his greeting.

"Father?" Kurt asks.

His father shakes his head at him. "Follow their orders," he says. "Whatever they ask you to do, follow them. Don't disappoint me, I will know if you didn't."

And then he leaves, brushing against Kurt, and Kurt is at a loss.

* * *

Kurt is sure that the dungeon is not made of copper, but then a coppery scent assaults his nose as soon as he steps in. He looks around to find 2 punishers standing in the middle of the room and the sudden realization hits him, the coppery smell, it's the smell of blood. He stops in his steps and looks around, frightened at what he would find. He hopes that it came from the various carcasses of dead rats, but who was he fooling? The smell is too strong, too fresh to have come from the dungeon's dwellers.

One of the punishers looks at him, and he tries his best not to quiver in fear. The only time he saw a punisher was when one of the help tried to slip his father poison. He never saw them in action, but he was told of how cruel and heartless they could be.

"Come," one punisher says in a deep voice, and Kurt feels compelled to obey but he stands still. "I don't like repeating myself." And Kurt finally follows, dragging himself closer to the punisher. He really doesn't want to be near the, any, punisher, there's just so much death and torture he can stand in a space. When he's a foot away from the punisher, the punisher grins at him sinisterly and Kurt wonders how it is that he's not shaking out of his wits now, because he really just cannot contain his fear, but apparently he can.

"Your father wants to teach you a lesson about love, and honor," the other punisher begins in a soft voice, and Kurt is a little bit more disgusted at this one than the first punisher, because something in the guy's soft voice is just so off. "And here's how we're doing it."

The two punishers part and a strangled scream is all Kurt can make as he makes a dive to the floor, right next to an unconscious and bloodied Sebastian. He doesn't hit the floor though, because one of the punisher comes up behind him and pulls him to his feet. He doesn't know when he started crying, but all he can feel are his tears constantly running down his face. He struggles in the punisher's hold as he takes in the broken, but thankfully still clothed, form of Sebastian, and he can't help but cry harder at the sight.

Sebastian was chained to the floor through heavy metal links that are attached to cuffs wrapped around his neck, and his arms and his legs. And his face is so dirty, like it's been dragged through a muddy field, there were scrapes on his face and open wounds that are still bleeding.

"Sebastian," he whimpers, his knees giving out on him, and the punisher releases him just in time. He crawls toward Sebastian, and when he reaches Sebastian, he gingerly puts Sebastian's head on his lap. He lets his fingers card through Sebastian's hair and he is repulsed to find it tangled and matted with Sebastian's drying blood. He brings the hem of his shirt to Sebastian's face, wiping off the dirt and the sweat, and _oh god, I need to clean his wounds, _as he dabs his shirt on the cuts. "What did you do to him?"

The punishers do not answer, instead, they move towards them, and Kurt changes his position. He brings up Sebastian higher on his lap and lets his hands wrap around Sebastian's chest protectively. "Don't," he warns them as they step closer.

He doesn't get a warning though. He hears, rather than sees, a boot crunching into Sebastian's right leg, and he winces, because _they're hurting him, can't they see that it hurts him?_ He immediately moves to gather Sebastian, who's waking up, spluttering into his neck, into his arms so that he can make him sit up.

"Ku-rt?" Sebastian whispers brokenly into his ear. Kurt doesn't answer, instead he braces himself, and makes Sebastian curl into his embrace, because this time he has a warning. He saw the other punisher's leg twitch and he knows, he just knows. The boot kicking him doesn't come as a surprise, it hurts like fuck, and he mentally berates himself for not paying attention to his self-defence lessons. The pain pulls out a tear from his eyes but he refuses to cry out. _Not like this,_ _not when Sebastian needs me here._

"Let go," one of the punisher says, as the other punisher pulls him away from Sebastian but Kurt doesn't let go. He tightens his hold and it doesn't matter if he causes pain for Sebastian, because this, this will be nothing compared to the pain the punishers will inflict on Sebastian when he lets go.

"You won't let go?" the same punisher asks as he pulls Kurt's hair with force. Kurt doesn't answer, doesn't even make a noise, and doesn't even close his eyes even if the pain is telling him to do so. He just holds on to Sebastian, and stares at Sebastian's pleading eyes, hoping that he can convey his strength, and that _it's okay, I'm fine, we'll be fine._

A kick to his back makes him lunge forward and with that he takes Sebastian with him. He doesn't worry about the burning pain on his back as more kicks were delivered to it, he worries about the impact, and how it affects Sebastian who is already prone. "Are you okay?" he manages to whisper to Sebastian.

"Kurt," Sebastian's voice is gravelly and all Kurt could think of was _how long have they kept him here?_ "Kurt, let go of me," he begs. "Let go of me, they're hurting you, and you're not used to this. Let go of me please."

"I can't," Kurt says as he lets a tear slip as he closes his eyes briefly. "I love you too much to let go."

"Fucking let go of that fag!" the other punisher screams at him as he pulls Sebastian away. And maybe Kurt is not so strong at all, because his arms loosen his hold on Sebastian. He gets dragged away from Sebastian and he moves to crawl towards him, but the punisher stops him, hitting him on his face with a closed fist and Kurt can feel his lips burst, and hear Sebastian scream. It doesn't stop him from trying though, because he's back again on his knees, trying to reach Sebastian who was now being held around his neck.

"If you don't stop crawling to this fag, I will kill him!" the punisher who holds Sebastian yells at them, and Kurt finally stops trying. Because as much as he wants to go to Sebastian and hold him, he won't do that if its price was Sebastian's life.

The two finally stops struggling against their captors, and when their eyes meet, there's nothing but trust, and love and reassurance in them, so Kurt calms and Sebastian lets his guard down.

The punisher who's holding Kurt finally lets go of him and, it's like deja vu when he falls to the floor, kneeling right in front of Sebastian. Kurt tries to reach out to Sebastian, but he is dragged to his feet again while Sebastian remains kneeling in front of him.

"This is what you will do," the punisher who was holding him starts, breath hot on Kurt's neck. "You will flog him," Kurt stiffens at this, shaking his head, no, "with this," the punisher continues, and Kurt's eyes widen when a whip with small shards on the tips is dangled in front of him.

"No," Kurt finds his voice, strong and defiant. "No, no, no," he says with every shake of his head. "I won't hurt him. I won't hurt you Sebastian."

But the punisher's won't listen.

"Strip him," Kurt's punisher says to Sebastian's punisher and Kurt struggles against his hold again.

"No!" Kurt screams at his punisher. "No!"

"It doesn't matter," Sebastian's punisher says. "If you won't flog him, then we'll use this instead," he says as he brings up a wider, thicker whip with larger glass shards.

Kurt's eyes widen in fear, and he screams out the first thing that comes into his mind. "Hurt me instead!" he cries out. "Hurt me instead," his punisher loosens the hold on him and he takes it as a chance to strip his clothes. "Don't hurt him," he lets the shirt fall off and he starts on his pants. "Hurt me instead. He's not the one who needs to learn his place," Kurt says as he tugs his pants down and throws them off. "Use whatever you want, just don't hurt him anymore," he says as he kneels in front of the two punishers.

"Just please, please don't hurt him," Kurt says, trying his best to ignore Sebastian's screams of no, and don't do that.

* * *

Kurt wakes up with a start. His chest is heaving, and there's a fiery pain on his back, like he's been hit a thousand times with a pole. He moves a hand to his face and he is shocked to find it wet.

He was crying.

He hurriedly throws the covers off him and rushes to his dresser to check. His cheeks are wet, and his eyes are puffy. He wonders why he's crying, but the dream, no, nightmare comes rushing back at him.

Sebastian being punished, the two of them being punished for being in love.

His heart constricts like a hand was holding it tightly and he finds it hard to breathe. He doesn't surprise himself when he breaks down and cries.

* * *

_Sometimes_, Sebastian thinks, _nightmares are not dreams._

He stretches his arms and fights against the impulse to bring them back down. He relaxes when he finally reaches the top of his scars that run through his back. _These ugly scars will never fade as long as I live._

Sometimes, nightmares are the ordinary things that happen before your eyes, things that you can never stop. And maybe for a moment they will stop, but they will keep playing before your eyes, they will keep haunting you, they will keep terrifying you, and freezing you. Rubbing your inability to stop things from happening in front of your face.

And this haunting, that's what makes them become nightmares instead of forgotten memories.

* * *

They asked him to count. They asked him to count every strike that landed on Kurt's porcelain skin. They told him to count as clear and as loud as he could. If he stuttered, they would go back to the start. Back to one, and Kurt will be flogged again, a hundred and fifty times becoming two hundred. He stuttered once, on his 23rd count and he beats himself up for it because Kurt doesn't need the extra hits. Kurt doesn't cry out though, and he doesn't condemn Sebastian for messing up when their eyes meet, Sebastian's in apology, and Kurt's in sweet, understanding.

He counts louder after that.

But Kurt doesn't reach a hundred.

Kurt faints at the 97th strike (97 plus 23, it was the 120th strike).

Kurt's punisher wraps Kurt up in his clothes, and Sebastian wants to scream, but he is so choked up.

A blonde maid enters, accompanied by Kurt's father, Master Burt. Master Burt pays him no attention, he only nods at the punishers and Sebastian can only watch as they take Kurt away.

Sebastian is at a loss. He doesn't even feel the two punishers strip him. He doesn't even feel them whip him alternately. The only thing he feels is loss.

He stares at the spot where Kurt knelt, getting whipped in his place, and he wishes he could be as strong as Kurt, but he can't.

Because he's lost. He's so lost without Kurt.

* * *

Author's Note: this was playing on loop, I just find it fitting. Infinite-The Chaser (youtube watch?v=DTzaMmBHoNI) . And you have a clue to the next chapter! It's all about loss, and being lost, and see the switch in POV there :D . Brace yourselves, Sebastian's side is coming.


	3. Lost : Preview

Chapter 3 Preview

The first time Sebastian meets Kurt, Sebastian is only on his seventh year of living. And now, even on his 236th year of living (if this could still be called as living), he can still remember clearly how it went.

15th day on the 3rd month of summer of 1783

In fifteen days, summer would be ending and autumn is coming. People, at least the ones who could afford it, are clamouring to get their wardrobes changed and fitted for the cold nights and harsh winds of autumn. Sebastian's father, one of the most sought-after tailors in town, is heavily booked for the next five days. His father would be visiting his clients, taking and updating measurements and noting down requests from these customers. During these visits, Sebastian would be usually found playing with his friends, running in the fields and chasing after the sons of the manor helpers and traders. Today is different though.

"Sebastian!" his father calls.

Sebastian who was running away from Wesley (a Chinese trader's son) skids to a stop and turns around to look at his father who was standing at the edge of the field. "I have to go," Sebastian shouts at his playmates, he laughs at Wesley's face of disappointment. "Papa needs me!" he says as he runs, without looking back to the playmates he's left behind, towards his father who was waiting.

He is out of breath when he reaches his father. Hair wild and sticking out in every direction, he attempts to make himself presentable. "What do you need me for, papa?"

"We're going to the manor today," his father says with a grin. He grins back at him, excited at the prospect of visiting the manor. His father takes his hand and they walk towards their home so that they could prepare for their visit and Sebastian asks questions about how the manor looks like and who they are going to visit along the way.

The manor is where the Lord Hummel lives. Lord Burt Hummel owns the field where most of Sebastian's playmates' mothers farm; he also owns the rivers and forest beyond the fields. Everybody in town reports to Lord Hummel. He is a very powerful and respectable man and everybody loves him because he is very generous and kind. Sebastian aspires to become like Lord Burt Hummel someday, someone who will want for not and yet very just and giving. He admires him so even if he hasn't met Lord Hummel, but maybe today, he'll be able to meet the man who he wants to become.

"Father," Sebastian says, pulling on his father's pant legs as they are welcomed to the manor. His father looks down at him and urges him to continue. "Are we going to see Lord Hummel?"

"Yes," his father replies, ruffling Sebastian's hair. "And not only Lord Hummel but little Master Hummel too!"

Sebastian looks at his father in confusion. "Little Master Hummel?"

"Yes, little master is our new client. We're going to be fitting him alongside Lord Hummel."

"But who is he?"

"He's Lord Hummel's son."

"Have you seen him?"

"Once, he's too shy for a boy his age so I haven't even had a proper look at him. But if he's anything like Lord Hummel, then I am sure he is kind."

Sebastian nods, he didn't know that Lord Hummel has a son. None of the ladies that gather in the tavern that they eat at ever mention Lord Hummel having a family.

"Is he as young as me?"

"Maybe younger? But not by so much," his father muses.

"If he is younger than me, why is he getting a personal tailor?" Sebastian asks, wondering why a child is his father's client. His father's clients are usually old people, the youngest he knows of was that daughter of Berrys who was around 10 years old. But she didn't count because she is such an unpleasant girl. Sebastian did not like her one bit because she always talks about their fortune and her new toys and dresses. He wonders if the little master would be as unpleasant as the Berry girl. "Is he like Miss Berry who always wants for dresses and sweets?"

His father chuckles and Sebastian frowns, he doesn't find anything funny. "I would think not," his father finally replies. "Lord Hummel doesn't tolerate pettiness, I'm sure that you won't find him unpleasant."

Sebastian was about to argue that he doesn't mean to imply anything by his question but he is interrupted when a servant comes to get them.

"Master Smith? I will be accompanying you to the Lord's dressing quarters."

Sebastian stands up and braces himself, following his father's footsteps when the servant suddenly bends down to face him. He gives the servant a shy smile and is relieved to find her grinning back at him.

"What's your name?" she asks.

"Sebastian, miss," he replies shyly.

"Master Smith will be attending to Lord Hummel and Master Hummel, are you going to accompany him? If you want you can go with me to the kitchens if you are in want of some sweets?"

Sebastian only shakes his head. "Can I go with my father?" he asks instead, looking at her with pleading eyes. "I promise I will not bring trouble!"

"Alright," she says. "Might as well come along so that Master Hummel has someone to play with."

* * *

**Author's Note:** So I haven't forgotten about this story and I apologize for taking too long. I have lost my drafts for my Kurtbastian stories, and add to that the pressure of me finishing college so I wasn't able to write that much. Well, I'm done with college now so hopefully I can update this and finish just before the next halloween (OH GOD I FAIL SO MUCH). Here's a preview of chapter three which will be all about the word lost/lose so hang in there :D And thank you so much for all the reviews :D I'll try my best to respond to all your reviews next time.

-p


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